


The Beast of Man

by Grubbutts



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bestiality, Biting, Bro is a woofer god, Eridan is a dumbass, M/M, Mild Blood, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Transformation, Vampires, Werewolves, monster hunting, they fucc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 20:37:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16145057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grubbutts/pseuds/Grubbutts
Summary: Eridan finds a precious white stag that he hunts through his familiar woods, but it leads him to something unexpected. Revenge of the god of the creatures Eridan hunts.





	The Beast of Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragoneisha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoneisha/gifts).



White flashes through the bushes and Eridan swiftly follows, crossbow in hand as he creeps through the trees. Years of hunting have trained him to be soft and quiet on his feet, padding along the grass and skirting around bushes to follow the stag. Of course it's not quite as big as some of the other things he's hunted down before, heaven knows that minotaurs are extraordinarily terrifying, but a white stag is simply the most precious. The light of the moon shines off the snow white coat of the deer while he thinks of how its skin would look as a new coat, its antlers a trophy to hang on his wall among the others, he would even parade it around the town for all to be in awe of. 

Maybe then the townsfolk will come to respect his hunting prowess instead of their fanaticism for festooned artistry praising the horrid creatures of the wood. Seriously, when he speaks of his hunts in the tavern, everyone let's out histrionic cries of “how dare you!” and “Eridan, what the fuck?”. They believe that they're sacred and protected and blah blah blah. It's a pain, and no one understands the responsibility that weighs on Eridan's shoulders to keep the town safe. 

The stag finally slows into a clearing beneath the moonlight, downright poetic and Eridan is sure some of the townspeople would speak of how beautiful and lucky they are to see this. But Eridan, the only one with his priorities in order, readies his crossbow from behind the thick oak he hides behind, pressing against the jagged bark and squinting his eye. The wood of his weapon creaks ever so slightly as he aims...he adjusts… lines up his target… and…. fwhip!

The bolt flies seamlessly through the air, whizzing through the cold breeze and it lands. A hit. The bolt sticks into the stags shoulder, not the best hit but it's enough to draw blood that stains white fur with a bold red. The buck rears and cries out, and Eridan makes his move. He jumps from behind the tree and sprints towards the stag, loading another bolt in and chasing it as it begins to run away again. His flowing half cape whips behind him, helping to shadow him in darkness despite the light of night.

It shouldn't take long for the stag to slow enough for another hit, yet somehow the stag runs fast, faster than before, impossibly fast even? Eridan has to pause in the middle of the clearing because the shimmering white stag has just vanished from thin air, disappearing into the trees in the blink of an eye. Dammit. 

Obviously finicky shenanigans happen when you hunt down mythical creatures for a living, but a stag running that fast just seems a little much. He huffs and slumps his shoulders, a bum night it seems, might as well head back home. 

But he freezes as the wind blows and the susurrus of the trees fills his ears. It seems louder tonight for some reason, deafening, practically crippling. His ears begin to ring and he clasps his hands over the sides of his head, gritting his teeth. A rustling of leaves shouldn't be so loud, yet it sounds as if there's shrieking in his head, it rings through his teeth and bolts through his nerves. He doesn't even realize when that he's collapsed onto his knees. He can't see a thing his vision blacks out and blues, is his nose bleeding? His head aches and throbs and holy fuck he's going to die his head is going to explode oh God oh God have mercy on a faithful man's soul-

...

Then suddenly silence.

Eridan slowly blinks his eyes and his vision seeps back, dropping his hands into his lap, and he shakes his head. Then he notices a shadow hovering over him, blocking out the moon. He can almost feel all the vertebrae in his neck shift and pull as he looks up molasses pace. Eridan sees four large furry legs with claws, lean rippled muscles beneath that Eridan can tell. Legs up to a furried chest, up to- oh God. Those are sharp teeth and they are very very close. The large world blinks at him, unimpressed, and it sniffs at Eridan a bit.

Eridan's heart has hardly had a beat in the past 5 minutes, he feels like one with the shivering winds as his blood is turned to ice. 

“Sup.”

Ah, so the wolf can talk. Eridan swallows the lead ball in his throat, and he opens his mouth to speak. But the wolf interrupts before he can by snapping at him, then sits down, lifting his head up high.

“You don’t get a voice right now, not for a demon like you.”

Well Eridan is hardly the demon here! 

“You are, don't bother trying to defend yourself with any apoplectic yammering. I've seen all your deeds, and that final bolt is the last straw.” The wolf stands again and begins to walk around Eridan's kneeling form, licking his chops and stalking. “I'm Ambrose, god of these woods and all the creatures who live here. You've been slaughtering my family with no remorse, and even have the audacity to be proud of it.”

“I-” it's all Eridan can say before Ambrose snatches at his cape, tugging it and tearing it with a loud and singular rip that echoes through the clearing as if traveling along the blades of grass themselves. No blood is drawn but the effect is clear, and it shakes Eridan to his very core.

“Eridan. Yeah, I know your name, you're going to listen to me and only speak when spoken to, got it?” Ambrose tosses the remnants of Eridan's cape to the side and moves in front of him, pressing a paw against his chest and pushing him to the ground. Eridan just nods and lies down because what else is he supposed to do? There's a large wolf towering over him who just ripped his cape like parchment with large pointed teeth.

His heart has also decided to revive itself with a burgeoning beat, racing faster than any horse in the countryside. 

Eridan's head lands on the ground, nestled in the grass, and his body feels numb. It's hard to truly connect the dots from the beginning of his nightly hunt to this point, all is a blur of white that lead him here. This Ambrose is awesome and horrid with his large teeth and the claws that press against his chest.

Yet still, his hand drifts to the side to find the familiar wooded weapon that fits his hand so fluidly, staring up at Ambrose while his fingers just barely graze it. Ambrose is leaning in, sniffing and nosing at the side of his neck. Idiot dog, Eridan is so close to grasping onto his crossbow he'll stick a bolt in this hounds neck in no time. The pads of his fingertips land on the handle, the carved wood, slowly inch by inch creeping up, he doesn't even need to see to know he's close to wrapping his hand around the handle. He's almost got it Ambrose won't know what's coming to him stupid beast-

“Huuahhfuck!!!” Teeth clamp down on his neck, sharp and pointed, sinking into his skin. Sharp fire bursts down his side and into his skull, pain building pressure behind his eyes, making them glossy. His hands clench onto the grass, crossbow forgotten.

“I wouldn't pick that up if I were you,” Ambrose says as he unlatches from Eridan's neck, now licking and lapping at the wound, cleaning off the dripping blood. 

“What… are you doin... fowl beast...” Eridan croaks out, licking his lips and teeth while his breath shudders.

Ambrose continues licking at Eridan's neck, then moves down to nose and nip at the buttons of his clothes, “Giving you what you deserve.”

Eridan furrows his brows, wondering what exactly it is that he “deserves”, but he's had quite enough of this. He sharply inhales and lunges to the side to grab for his crossbow, a risky move but at this point irrational desperation is creeping towards the edges of his being. Eridan grabs onto the crossbow and he grins, but Ambrose is quick to pounce and land on his back. His large maw leans down to tug the bow out of his hands, but what makes Eridan completely freeze in fear is the way Ambrose bites down and shatters the crossbow into splinters and wire.

“Told you not to pick it up,” he says, nipping at Eridan's shoulder. “There's no point in fighting, the deed is done.” 

Eridan gulps and turns his head to look at the wolf from the corner of his eye, “Vwhat do you mean?”

Ambrose snorts and begins to paw at Eridan's clothes, specifically his trousers, “Instead of hunting creatures, you'll hunt man.”

“As if!”

“You can feel it now though, can't you? The craving.”

Well, Eridan supposes he does feel rather hot and… hungry. He thinks of cornish hens and roasted potatoes, but there's something off about them that I can't quite pinpoint. Then he thinks of the butcher, a strong man with a strong heart… a strong beating heart pumping blood through his body. What must it taste like?

It hits Eridan all at once, the obstreperous sounds of leaves and crickets, the thunderous beat of Ambrose's heart, the ice coldness of his wet nose pressed against his skin. The blades of grass against his now bare legs feel like needles. Eridan's throat closes up and his vision blurs, his head pounds beyond belief, a bloodcurdling scream flees his mouth, passing by his now pointed teeth. It's as if he were plunged from the top of a mountain to the bottom of the sea, being crushed and surrounded by a monumental force of sensations.

But there's one good thing; Ambrose's tongue. He feels it against his cheek, licking up tears he didn't realize he was crying. “It's alright Eridan,” Ambrose whispers, “You are beast now, I'll help you into your new life.”

Eridan grits his teeth yet it feels like hot oil to his gums, “I don't… need help… monster,” he pants out.

Ambrose laughs, “Easy now. I could leave you here to suffer through the change from man to beast, which can kill you,” he licks at Eridan's neck and presses a paw against an ass cheek, “Or I can guide you through it. You're one of mine now.”

Nightmares of fires and showing up to school in his underwear in no way compare to the nightmare of Eridans current reality. It's impossible, it has to be, for something sordid, to become a beast himself. Yet the piercing hot knife slicing through his head and the flames of his blood beg and plead for relief. Any relief, it doesn't matter. He'll wake up, yeah, surely he'll wake up from such a hellish nightmare.

“Fvine,” Eridan breathes, sniffling and refusing to look buck at Ambrose, “Please just… make it stop hurting.”

Ambrose huffs a laugh and licks at Eridan's neck, “There you go. You'll find it much easier to ask for my help in the coming years,” he says. Eridan doesn't give two shits, his body is tearing apart into tiny little pieces and coming back together in a hot blacksmith's weld. The wolf steps back and bends down, nosing at the gap between Eridan's legs, pushing them further apart. With each passing second Eridan's pain and the heat inside him grows stronger and hotter, he doesn't much care what Ambrose does he just wants to be able to breathe again. 

What Ambrose does though, is nose and lift Eridan's ass up into the air, forcing him to rest on his arms while his knees lift his back and upwards. His tongue delves into the depths between Eridan's cheeks, licking at him from his drooping balls to the dimples on his back. All the while Ambrose's cock slides out of his sheath, hanging thick and heavy in the air. 

Eridan's moans and cries echo through the woods, but not a creature dare intrudes on this ritual. They are alone under the moonlight. 

It's a haze of tartarus that seeps through his veins while Ambrose prepares him, his only relief arrives when the gods tapered cock breaches into him, sliding and stretching him out. It's downright heavenly, like cool mead on a summer's day. It's as if the fires inside him have begun to be doused, Eridan's nerves easing and focusing on being filled by Ambrose's cock. He can't help the way his moans ameliorate from pained to beyond pleased. “Oh god…”

Ambrose spears himself entirely into Eridan, mounting him, his plump balls pressing against the globes of the mans tight ass and he laughs, “That's me alright. Sit tight sweet thing, I've got you,” he softly says. He holds onto Eridan's sides, dipping his head to bite down on his neck again. He pulls out, then he thrusts.

“Fffvvvvuck!!” Eridan cries out, mouth wide open while his fangs gleam. Ambrose wastes no time setting a rhythm, humping and fucking Eridan, growling into his shoulder while the man moans and cries out. He hammers into him, thick cock thrusting in and out, jostling Eridan. He only stays still because if the teeth in his neck. 

Ambrose knows full well the effects he's having on Eridan, and it is definitely going to his head. By now the needles and piercing pain that fills Eridan's body is gently washing away with each thrust. The magic of Ambrose filling him and allowing his body to change from human to vampire. As well as fill him with his cock, which certainly makes the wolf snicker as his knot begins to grow and his thrusts become more rapid.

Eridan moans and whines with the unholy pounding he's receiving. He hates that it feels so good, that the pain ebb and flows away and his own cock hangs in the air, dripping with pre. He'd like to grab whatever weapon he has left to kill Ambrose, but there's something inside him that violently disagrees with the idea. Something inside him feels… connected to Ambrose, and it's not his glorious cock. His nerves now tingle with a submission, a need to obey Ambrose a much as he hates it. He'd never want to follow the orders of such a beast, and yet here he is getting fucked within an inch of his life by one. But no, no he could never-

Ambrose bites down harder and his thrusts shudder, slower in pace but harder and deeper. His knot presses against Eridan's hole and with one more push it pops in. He continues to hold on tightly and hump as much as he can into Eridan while being tied with him. And soon Eridan feels it, Ambrose slowing down even further while his cock pulses and throbs, pumping his load deep inside. It fills Eridan with a heat that equates the feeling of being so thoroughly fucked that his body decides it's his turn to cum too as he's being filled. He groans as his cock twitches and bobs, spurting seman onto the grass without ever being touched. It's somehow satisfying to cum only once Ambrose has.

Eridan pants out, his body sated and calm from its earlier turmoil. Ambrose let's go of his hold on Eridan's neck, licking him up once more to help clean him off. “You did good Eridan.”

“Fvuck you.”

Ambrose snorts, “Think I just did that,” he continues to lick and nuzzle at Eridan's neck while his knot gets smaller and he slowly slips out. He takes a few steps back to nose at Eridan's wrecked hole, rather proud of a job well done as he lick and cleans him up here too.

Eridan's body is too weak to move, shivering and shaking but wholly satisfied and all in all rather pleasant feeling. And hungry.

Ambrose finishes cleaning him up and trots around, pulling at Eridan to stand up enough to pull himself onto Ambrose's back. “I'll have you back home in a minute before anyone can see you. Get dressed and find yourself a meal,” he stays as the wolf begins to sprint back into the thicket with Eridan clutching onto him.

“I fvucking hate you,” he says weakly, holding tight and sighing. So long are the days of hunting the dreaded beasts he's now become.

“I know. Find me again whenever you need to,” Ambrose says, and soon enough they arrive at the back of Eridan's cottage. “You're one of mine now, make me proud, little hunter.”


End file.
